Journey

If you're here, you know my love of symbols. Before my husband was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma in October, I sometimes sported a pink ribbon for breast cancer awareness since it's a cause I like to support. However, it wasn't until I had a reason to wear a violet ribbon that I truly understood the point of awareness symbols.

In college, I had a professor rant one day about the pointlessness of wearing awareness ribbons (as half the class sat wearing them since it was Breast Cancer Awareness Month and they were being sold on campus). He criticized it as a way to show off instead of a way to draw attention to a cause. He reasoned that all the money spent on making awareness items could be that much more money given to a cause. I did that day, and still do, somewhat agree with his points. However, I think there's much, much more to the story.

When my husband was diagnosed, I felt very alone. Here I was, 27 and my husband 26. Within a matter of hours, we had to make decisions about our future such as if we would ever want to undergo IVF if chemo made him sterile, which oncologist he wanted to see and if we would go through with the purchase of the home we were building. When he called to tell me the bad news, I don't remember how I ended up in a chair in the lobby of my office. I sort of fell into it, not attaching the words to our lives. "They think it's lymphoma." Boom. I watched other office workers walk by the windows. I had been one of them a few minutes ago.

It took me a long time to want to be part of the cancer community. I cried during my husband's first chemo, watching as the drugs dripped down a long tube into the port in his chest. We were given materials...lots of lighthouse imagery, soft colors and line drawings of how to live with cancer. Not anything I wanted to face.

Eventually, though, I started looking for a way to own my role as a caretaker and spouse of a cancer patient. I exhausted my vacation and sick leave almost immediately with his two surgeries and first chemo. His mom doesn't work on Fridays, so she offered to take him to treatments. Other family members and friends stepped in to take him too. There was nothing worse that trying to concentrate at work knowing that I couldn't be there for him. And so I started to wear a red rubber bracelet from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society . It might sound silly, but it was a constant reminder of his fight and made me feel like I was there in spirit when I couldn't be there in person. I gave them to our family members and friends, who all wear them too. Whenever we're all together or I see a photo of someone wearing their bracelet, I feel a connection. We're all in this together.

Since the red bracelets are a symbol of the LLS, I also purchased buttons specific to Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Friends and family also sport these, some with violet ribbons attached, to show support and solidarity. I've been asked about mine several times, leading not only to discussion about this specific cancer, but also to recommendations for diet and exercise, offers to visit and promises to take better care of oneself by not avoiding routine exams.

Right before Neil's first surgery, a biopsy and removal of lymph nodes in his neck, family friends stopped over with a St. Christopher medal. While we are not Catholic and do not attend church, the gesture and meaning was appreciated. "He's the patron saint of long journeys," the husband said, "and you're about to go on one." Since Neil could not wear it comfortably during chemo, I held it in my hand as I sat on the hospital bed with him.

It's been some time since those rubber awareness bracelets were at the peak of popularity.And some may misunderstand my wearing of a button and ribbon as a way to get attention or show off chartiable giving. And though you'll never find me at mass, I still take out the St. Christopher medal from time to time, reflecting on our journey...something I'm sure people balk at.

I hope my experience will show others that these symbols are so much more than a fashion statement or attention-grabber. They are a connection and a comfort.

The Santa Fe

This is an old family photo. Harrison Combs is my great-great grandfather from Jefferson, KY. I think he is the one on the left. On the back (it looks like this is a postcard), it says:

J Goo said before he died there was one more train he wanted to ride. People said what the train might be it was the Southern Pacific on the Santa Fe.

Harrison Combs and Dave Gayheart

I have absolutely no idea what this means, during which war it was taken or what the inside joke is. My father's family history is somewhat fractured as my grandfather was adopted and there are a few blank spots elsewhere where two ancestors married Cherokee women and were unfortunately ignored for that reason. Other fascinating facts have come to me recently--some of my ancestors had a skin condition where they turned blue (science now thinks it's the result of mining, which would make sense) and I had a relative named Shanghai Nick.

I have family in Hazard and Somerset and would love to find out more. It seems like there's a very colorful past to be discovered. For now, all I have are a few photos as symbols of my lineage.

Dillinger

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Originally uploaded by True North Two

Back in July, we visited Indianapolis with some friends. At the time, the movie Public Enemies was being hyped and I happened to pick up a newspaper at the hotel only to discover that John Dillinger was buried at Crown Hill Cemetery, near the art museum we were about to visit. Of course, I insisted we stop even though it was pouring rain.

Here is Dillinger's nondescript stone in the family plot. Apparently, he was buried under three feet of cement to prevent grave robbing, and this isn't his first gravestone either--others were broken into bits and stolen as souvenirs.

I always think it's interesting to visit the burial sites of famous people. Even though they may have been unapproachable in life or dead before my time, it's like a private conference with their spirit. This was my first criminal grave visit and it seemed appropriate it occurred on such a dreary day.


Find more information, as well as the exact location, here.

Long break!

I want to explain my recent absence since a guest post on http://www.cincinnatireadventure.com/ today means people might end up here!

My husband was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma in October and has undergone chemo since October 23rd. Since this blog depended on our weekend trips, it was put on hold. I am happy to report that I am currently finishing my book (after being given a generous extension) and even better, my husband is in remission! He is still under treatment, but at this point it's all preventative.

Check back when we hit the road again in search of the weird and wonderful! Until then, I'm going to dig up some things from my archives for a few posts!

Graveyard Tourism

http://www.cnn.com/2009/TRAVEL/10/30/graveyard.tourism/index.html

Tippecanoe Battlefield

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Originally uploaded by True North Two

On our way back from an exhausting but incredibly trip to Chicago, we stopped at Tippecanoe Battlefield, just outside Lafayette, Indiana. It's probably equally famous for its being the home of Purdue.

We've visited several battlefields, including Gettysburg, Stones River and Perryville, all Civil War sites. We also visited Tu-Endie-Wei, a pre-Revolutionary War conflict site. This was our first foray into the period called Tecumseh's War, when a federation of tribes was battling for their lands against colonialists and was threatening a British alliance.

I'll leave the history to the experts, but it was interesting to learn how such a small, wedge-shaped piece of land lodged between a creek and a swamp was so important. Today, a large obelisk stands near the entrance in honor of those who lost their lives in battle.

Winged Sun

My husband and I were out for a Sunday drive when we came across a cemetery we'd never seen before...and trust me, we've been all over our county. We found some great symbols on stones, including the winged sun; I don't think I had seen that symbol in real life...just online.

The winged sun is used often by Pennsylvania Dutch, according to this site.

It represents resurrection, Jesus or heaven. The site I referenced says the sun often appears as a circle with a dot in the middle because that was the symbol for the sun in old almanacs. I think I can make out a dot on this one, though it is covered in lichen and therefore difficult to tell for sure.

The stones in this cemetery were really ornate and beautiful. The names were old ones, including one so beautiful I'd consider using it if we ever have a girl: Aureolia Rosalie.

I also spotted a few stones that had what looked like a small inset frame. I wonder if they are supposed to be gates, a common symbol of entrance to heaven, but they were deep, almost like they were once used to place small items inside--maybe a photo or small vase?

For my readers

From time to time, I've mentioned visiting place for my book. I'd been working on it for months and months and on July 15th, it was sent to the publisher.

The book, tentatively titled "Tiny Journeys: Day Trips from the Queen City," covers attractions, grouped by area, which can be visited in a day or weekend. Most are less than two hours and nothing in the book costs over $25. Most attractions are free or donation only.

I am currently working with my editor to add some maps to make it even easier to go on a "Tiny Journey." Looks like it will hit the web and brick-and-mortar stores for sales late this year or early '10. I will be doing a few signings, with one already lined up with my alma mater, Shawnee State University, when the book is released.

You should be able to find it at many of the attractions mentioned in the book, which I later plan to list here. Some are offering to sell it in their gift shops, which is very exciting!

For now, stay tuned with twitter (@CincyDayTrips) or on Facebook (facebook.com/tinyjourneys or click on the box to the right).

Thanks for reading, and I hope you make the leap from my blog to my book!

-Jenny

Portsmouth Flood Wall Murals

I attended Shawnee State University from 2001-2005. One of my favorite things to do was walk the floodwall--first along the top of the grassy section and then down to the murals.

Portsmouth is famous for the flood wall murals, which depict area history and important events. The murals are so lifelike, with some good photography skills you could easily state a photo that looks like you're part of the paintings.

The murals were designed by artist Robert Dafford. They were commissioned after a group of citizens thought the flood wall could be more than just slabs of cement. They were right. I love how the murals depict what the flood wall is protecting. On the opposite side, you'll find a wall of painted stars that have been signed by notable figures from the area.

In the photo above, you can see the artist has painted himself into several scenes. I think it's a great way to "sign" this beautiful work of art.

If you're ever in Portsmouth, make sure this is one of your stops. Though several other river cities have similar murals (Point Pleasant, WV has some, for example) this will always be my favorite.

Mothman Country

Point Pleasant is a place I've been waiting to go, not only to cover for my book, but as a sort of pilgrimage for a girl who loves a good cryptoid story.

We arrived in Point Pleasant around 11 a.m. on a Saturday. Feeling a little sheepish, we got out of the car near the Silver Bridge collapse site memorial to take photos. We felt the eyes of the locals on us as I lined up my shot. Boy, I thought. They must really get sick of gawkers.

But my initial impression was wrong. Not only were there tons of other people posing by various sites and buying armfuls of memorbilia, the townspeople seemed to be eating it up. And why not? I'm sure it brings in a ton of money.

Our next stop was a souvenir shop, almost exactly across the street from the memorial, where we saw quite a few people congregating. Turns out, we weren't the only ones who were in town to see the sights.

Inside The Point (the name of the shop), we found every sort of trinket from shot glasses to plush Mothmen. As we waited to check out, we heard the owner giving the woman in front of us instructions on how to get to the TNT igloos which were used during WWII and later became the hotspot for Mothman sightings. We were intrigued, as we had heard they were not accessible or open to the public. My husband asked the owner if he had another map, and the nice man proceeded to not only give us the map, but also give us detailed instructions for finding the igloos, draw a diagram, tell us stories that involved ancient Shawnee burial grounds and show us photos take by other visitors. Needless to say, I was intrigued.

Past feeling silly for being tourists, as we had seen many others in town for the same reasons, we found the Mothman statue near The Point and took some photos. My husband asked if I wanted to go to the TNT area, to which I replied "Hell yeah I do!"

Now, I must explain that I am a skeptic but enjoy these types of things for their folkloric value. That being said, our visit to the TNT bunkers made me uneasy to the point where I no longer wanted to linger despite being interested in poking around as we drove to the abandoned, desolate part of the nature preserve where they are located.

We located the guardrail the man at the store had described. It seemed like we walked forever between a thick, overgrown forest on our right and a foul, stagnant pond to our left. I had gone a few feet too far when my husband called out from behind me, "Hey, I think this is it!"

It was. Through a short, thick tunnel of vines and mud, we found the entrance to the first igloo. It was more bizarre than I expected. And bigger. Much bigger.

The odd thing was, we walked in cautiously, as not to disturb the people inside because, well, we both felt like there were going to be people inside. There weren't.

The man at the store explained that energy travels from one igloo to another and that we should take photos inside. Keeping an open mind, we did that. We saw nothing, but it was still unsettling. The detailed Mothman grafitti and empty black powder cans alluded to the area's past. Everything echoed all around us, from a deep exhale to our footsteps in the dark.

We traveled to the next one, this time down a longer, darker tunnel of foilage. We passed the owners of the cars we saw in the pulloff where we parked, which made us feel a little better. Then we went in. This one made me most uneasy. It seemed to sit back slightly more and it was more overgrown. I felt like if I was going to see anything that day, this was going to be where. I didn't see a thing, but the uneasiness grew.

We found the third one but didn't linger. It was hot, we were alone in the middle of nowhere and it was getting weirder by the minute.

On our way back, green snake passed beneath my foot, between it and my flip-flop. Having little fear of snakes, I simply shook it out, but my husband yelped in surprise and we had a good laugh. It was when the commotion was over that I started to feel really odd. "Do you feel weird?" I asked him. "Someone is back here watching people," he said. Well, those were my thoughts exactly and we decided to hightail it.

We passed the two other igloos quickly, not stopping to take another peek. The pond was making an odd crackling noise, sometimes sounding like knocks on a door. We felt like there were eyes on us.

We're both logical, rational people and we know very well that there could be cameras around there or even people hiding to play a trick. No matter what gave us that sensation, though, it was enough to give us pause and to make us drive away quickly.

I plan to scan the map soon and share it; it's not a good place for small kids and you should be careful of various hazards. I'm glad we visited but maybe next time it will be in a larger group--safety in numbers.